Remembering a World War I veteran during his final moments

I visited multiple cemeteries this past weekend, pausing at the grave sites of numerous veterans. 

Some were relatives, most were not; some died for this country, others put themselves in a position to do so. 

On one of these graves someone had placed a printed page, a piece of paper held in place by a rock. 

I was drawn to the paper—an odd contrast to the flowers and flags on other graves. 

The words are worth repeating.   I did not copy them, but the message was approximately as follows:

Do not thank a community organizer for the right to assemble.        

My thoughts drifted to a young man who died well before my time, a WW I veteran who was no more or less a hero than others whose graves I passed. 

Maurice “Steve” Stevenson was, however, humanized by a letter written by his buddy, a letter that appeared in our paper on Sept. 27, 1918. 

The official notice of the death of Corporal Maurice Stephenson, who was killed by machine gun fire in France on July 27, 1918, was received last week by his mother, Mrs. Jennie Stephenson. This week his brother, Russell, received a letter from Cpl. F.C. Crowder, another Red Oak boy and member of Co. M, telling of Cpl. Stephenson’s death. The letter follows:    

Dear Russell, Just a line to let you know I haven’t forgotten you, although I haven’t written for some time. You know by now of Steve’s death. War is hell, isn’t it? No need for me to tell you, Russell, that I sympathize with you as a brother. But he’s only ‘gone west,’ Russell, where all soldiers go, and he’ll be there waiting for us. 

He was killed on the Marne front up north of Chateau Thierry while charging Hill 212, just the other side of the Ourcq River. 

He died like a man, with a smile, and his ‘gat’ was spitting steel. 

He lies where he fell, Russ, upon a little mound on the hillside. It is a pretty spot, with wild poppies growing on it. I wrote to Nell just now and, believe me, it wasn’t what you would call an easy task. 

Well, goodbye, Russ, and good luck. Send this on to Mother Stephenson as I don’t know her address. 

From your brother’s pal, Corp. F.C. Crowder, Co. M, 168th Inf. 

Cynics may doubt that Cpl. Stephenson died with a smile on his face, his gat spitting steel, but we cannot fault his friend for attempting to ease the burdens of a grieving sweetheart and a loving mother.  

Roy Marshall is a local historian and regular columnist for The Red Oak Express. He can be emailed at news@redoakexpress.com.